


Gambit

by Piscaria



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Collection: Fandom Stocking 2014, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "Phantom Image," Ciel tries to find a way to turn the photograph Sebastian took to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gambit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cordialcount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordialcount/gifts).



> I meant to have this ready before Fandom Stocking went live, but life had other plans for me. I hope you enjoy it anyway, cordialcount! I was thrilled to see a Kuroshitsuji prompt amongst the stockings.

“I’m flattered, Master,” Sebastian said, and Ciel scowled, sinking lower into his chair. He only had himself to blame for falling asleep at his desk without securing the camera, but still, it smarted that Sebastian had taken advantage of the situation. The photograph and its contents were proof that he’d grown too complacent around Sebastian. 

With all the ghosts lingering in the Phantomhive Manor, Ciel would have expected the phantom image of his parents to materialize at his side. Sebastian’s presence in the photograph was damning in more ways than one – the demon played the knight so well to his king that sometimes Ciel forgot he was also an opponent. He’d lost sight of that black night when Sebastian would devour his soul. And though one stained and ragged soul seemed a small price to secure the revenge that Ciel craved with every fiber of his being, Ciel must not allow Sebastian’s façade as a devoted butler to blind him to the true nature of their contract. Revealing his affection for Sebastian had been a blunder.

_”Not a blunder: a gambit” his father corrected. His large hand descended on the chessboard, tapping the pawn he’d (foolishly, Ciel had insisted) maneuvered into range of Ciel’s bishop. “If you’d taken my bait, I could have captured your bishop in my next move.”_

_“But what if I ignored the bait and did this instead?” Ciel asked, trying to sound bored and arrogant as he moved his knight into position to capture his father’s rook. He knew his father was judging, not just Ciel’s moves, but also his worthiness as opponent and heir._

_“Well,” his father said, ceding the knight with a good-tempered nod, “that’s what a gambit is. In chess, like life, you need to take the occasional risk – don’t you agree, Ciel?”_

Sitting in his father’s chair at his father's table, wearing his father’s ring, Ciel wondered what his father would make of this mess with Sebastian. He’d grown so used to thinking of Sebastian as his prized knight that he’d nearly forgotten the demon was also his opponent in the larger game of life. Now he must try to think like his father, to find a way to turn his blunder into a gambit. 

_Even if a mountain of bodies piles up beneath your throne, you must not hesitate,_ he told himself, remembering Sebastian’s words after Madame Red’s funeral. _If the king is taken, it’s game over._ He could not afford to lose, could not afford any slip that would keep him from taking vengeance for the wrongs he’d suffered at his enemies hands. So what if Sebastian had claimed another piece, exposed another of Ciel’s weaknesses? Ciel, not Sebastian, was master here; Ciel, not Sebastian, would decide the end of their game.

A perfunctory knock sounded at the door, and Ciel hurried to open this month’s account book, trying to look deeply absorbed in the latest column of numbers. “Come in.” 

Wearing a bland expression that failed to hide his lingering smugness, Sebastian wheeled in a tea tray. “I’ve prepared your tea, Master.” He poured a cup of Darjeeling; Ciel tried not to glance at the covered dessert plate, though his mouth was watering from the delicious smell drifting from beneath the lid. “A blackberry and plum sponge cake soaked in blackberry cordial, layered with cream and fresh blackberries, and topped with sugar-coated blackberries,” said Sebastian, removing the lid with a flourish. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Ciel said, resisting the urge to reach for the slice of cake Sebastian set in front of him.

“Shouldn’t a butler be pleased at preparing his master’s favorite food?”

“Please,” Ciel scoffed, “We both know that you’re still gloating about that photograph.”

“The young master misunderstands!” Sebastian said, all innocence and subservience. “I was merely honored to have warranted even a moment in your thoughts.” He shot a sidelong glance at Ciel. “Indeed, I had thought to catch a glimpse of your parents.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ciel said, making a show of tasting a bite of the cake (which was, indeed, as delicious as always). “And don’t be ridiculous – only my vengeance matters to me now. Of course the instrument of that vengeance would appear in such a photograph.”

“Revenge means more to you than your dear, departed parents?” 

“It is pointless to preoccupy myself with the dead,” Ciel murmured, glancing at the window as he sipped his tea. 

Beyond the pristine lawn and the perfectly-manicured rose gardens, hidden from view by a grove of willow trees, his own, empty grave waited beside his parents’ in the Phanntomhive graveyard. In the glass, he could see Sebastian’s reflection, slit-pupiled eyes glowing with a naked hunger so intense that Ciel’s entire body flushed feverish in response to it, unsure whether to retreat or draw nearer to the source of that heat. 

He could hear his voice going low, throaty as he said, “It’s not for my parents that I sought your services, but for myself; I am the one who lives with the memory of that humiliation etched into my soul, and I am the one who will make them pay. That photograph you’ve been smirking about all morning taught you nothing that a more competent butler couldn’t have figured out on his own – on the other hand, I learned a great deal indeed from that camera.”

“My Lord?” Sebastian asked, confusion momentarily flickering on his too-beautiful face.

Ciel let him stew in that confusion for a moment, savoring a bite of whipped cream and fresh berries. The silver fork felt cool against his skin, flushed with the sudden thrill of seeing his next moves laid out so clearly. He took a long sip of Darjeeling, breathing in the familiar scent.

“Until you took such pains to destroy your own photograph, I was half convinced you felt no emotions at all. Who is it you will go to such pains to protect? Do you have a wife in the depths of hell, or a gaggle of cloven-hoofed brats?”

Sebastian’s laugh was richer than either cake or tea. “You’ll find that demons are rather solitary creatures, Young Master. We’re much like cats in that way. It’s rare for anyone to hold our attention for long.”

“Yet I note you did not deny having found some rare person who could,” Ciel noted. “Would you tell me who?”

“If you ordered it, Young Master, I would have no choice,” Sebastian said stiffly. “Had you ordered it, I would have stood for the photograph.”

“But what is the fun in that?” Ciel asked, and Sebastian smiled, his eyes warming bright as a crackling hearth fire, face suddenly fond. Ciel’s heart skipped a beat, and he glared down at his cake, taking a bite that rattled the china. He chewed slowly, contemplatively. By the time he’d swallowed and washed it down with a drink of tea, he’d managed to regain his composure.

“Keep your secrets,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I don’t care what they are, as long as they won’t interfere with my revenge.” He stood suddenly, bracing his hands on the desk. “But swear they won’t interfere with it, Sebastian! Promise me that!”

Sebastian’s leather shoes made no sound on the plush carpet as he stepped towards him. With a rustle of fabric, he dropped to one knee. His gloved fingers were cool as they caught Ciel’s hand, lifted it from the polished mahogany. 

Bowing his head over Ciel’s hand, Sebastian pressed a kiss to the blue diamond ring on his thumb. “I swear it, My Lord. You shall have your revenge.” He glanced up at Ciel through smoldering eyes, still holding his hand. Gaze never wavering, he turned Ciel’s hand over in his own, gloved thumb briefly caressing the back of his hand. Ciel drew in a ragged breath as Sebastian kissed the center of his palm. Heat seared through his body, and his hand moved, unbidden, to cup Sebastian’s fine-boned face. 

Throat suddenly dry, Ciel lifted his other hand to yank on his eye patch. “I don’t care what you do when I’m dead,” he said. “But as long as I live, you are _mine,_ Sebastian. Mine and no one else’s. That is an order!” 

He could feel the curve of Sebastian’s smile against edge of his thumb, feel the brush of cool cotton against his skin as Sebastian lifted his own hand to his mouth, biting the fingertip of one white gloved and dragging it off to reveal the glowing mark of their contract.

“Yes, My Lord.”

The End


End file.
